


Let Nothing You Dismay

by imagined_melody



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Babies, Christmas, Gen, Hospitals, Mild Angst, Past trauma (mentioned), Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 11:23:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17140865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagined_melody/pseuds/imagined_melody
Summary: The thing about Andrew is, he hates hospitals.A pro-team publicity visit to the children's hospital hits Andrew closer to home than he expects. (Written for the 2018 AFTG Holiday/Winter Fanzine.)





	Let Nothing You Dismay

**Author's Note:**

> It's Christmas Eve, which means that it's time for me to release my contribution to this year's AFTG Holiday Fanzine! This one's a little...sentimental, perhaps, but 'tis the season after all! I hope you enjoy. If this work interests you and you'd like to purchase the entire fanzine, you can get a copy [here](https://faintlyglow.itch.io/heathensgreetings-aftg-fanzine2018)! It's filled with dozens upon dozens of fics and artworks, and the proceeds go to support a worthy LGBTQ+ youth shelter. Kudos, comments, and sharing this story are all great ways to make **me** happy, but the best way to support this fic is to buy a copy of the zine in which it appears!

The thing about Andrew is, he hates hospitals.

He has enough terrible associations with the haze of medication, with the sterile smell of medical facilities and the sense of being trapped and in pain, that part of him would rather never set foot in a hospital again if he can help it. Which might explain why he reacts with such a lack of enthusiasm when the coach of his first pro team tells them that for their Christmas service project this year, they’ll be visiting kids in the children’s ward of their local hospital.

Problem is, Andrew already has a reputation with his teammates and their higher-ups for being uncooperative at the best of times. He’s weathered many a contentious discussion about his intractability, which his coach usually refers to as “bullheaded pissiness,” and while it hasn’t exactly made him a lot of friends, usually they either back down completely, or he can hold his ground until they offer a compromise.

But he’s not getting out of it this time. The team manager had brooked no argument on the matter. “They’re kids, Minyard,” he’d said when Andrew tried to voice his dissent. “Sick kids! Personally, I’d love to live in a fantasy world where kids aren’t in hospital beds at Christmastime. But since they are, the least we can do is bring them some presents, let them get their picture taken with their favorite Exy players, and cheer them up a little bit. I don’t give a fuck if you’d rather be doing something else.”

Andrew has not actually said he’d “rather be doing something else.” He hasn’t had a chance to say much of anything, in fact. Now, all he can do is sigh. He’s used to this feeling—excuses turning to ash in his mouth, no matter how valid he knows they are, made useless by some idiot’s refusal to understand. In their therapy sessions, Betsy always taught him: advocate for yourself when you can, find a way out if you can’t, find a way to cope if even _that_ doesn’t work. 

He could play the trauma card, make this guy feel really guilty and get himself out of this—but something in him bristles at that. He’s not with the Foxes anymore, and the wider world hasn’t always been safe for him; his history is a troubling thing, and he hates calling attention to it, doesn’t want what happened to him to be all anyone associates with him. Already more people know his darkest secrets than he’s comfortable with. So that rules out advocating for himself, at least in the way Bee envisions him doing it. And begging off the event isn’t an option. So he knows: he’s gonna have to do it.

The second he walks through the doors of Oxford County Children’s Hospital, he realizes that he hates hospitals even _more_ at Christmastime, if that’s possible. The false cheeriness in the air is palpable. There are employees everywhere wearing jolly Santa hats, and upbeat Christmas radio hits play on a near-constant loop in the waiting room. Everyone seems to be making a deliberate attempt to be as festive and positive as possible, as if that would smooth over the sickness and pain and trauma that brought everyone here in the first place. His teammates match that veneer of merriment: they come in smiling, greeting staff members, thanking them and hugging the kids that rush over to throw arms around them the second they enter the playroom. 

Andrew gamely accepts hugs from a few enthusiastic children, although most seem smart enough to realize he isn’t in a hurry to have anyone touch him and just come up to him to talk instead, chattering about little kid nonsense and telling him Exy trivia he already knows. (Much as he wishes he didn’t— but living with Neil combined with his flawless memory means he’s internalized every bit of minutiae the other man has told him). He answers them solemnly, hands out brightly wrapped presents from the bag in his hands, and then sends them off to one of his teammates, someone who’ll spin them around even though they could be fragile and do a frankly embarrassing Santa impression just to make them laugh.

By the time his gift bag is empty, the rest of the team is still busy socializing, and Andrew is itching for a break. So he sneaks away as soon as there are no eyes on him and wanders the halls, where things are a little quieter, a little less offensively festive. The rooms are calmer, silence only broken by the regular beep of a heart monitor, the low sound of a TV playing in the background, or the voices of a family’s conversation. A nurse walks by, humming a Christmas carol under her breath. The atmosphere of the hospital is still stifling, but a little less so when he’s further away from all the holiday cheer.

He’s just starting to consider whether he could find a way up onto the roof for some air, already planning the photo he’ll send to Neil to make him smile at the old memories, when he rounds the corner and sees a new wing just ahead of him. There are bright patterns on the walls, several wide clear windows, and two rows of rectangular stations with colorful blankets and the occasional twitch of restless movement.

It’s the neonatal ward. 

Something riots in Andrew, and he thinks about turning around to get away from that feeling—but he can hear that one of the babies is crying its little heart out, obviously uncomfortable, and he can’t walk away from that sound. He slips through the door and instantly spots the infant in question, wailing in its bassinet. A nurse is hovered over the baby, rubbing soothing circles over his little bare tummy and talking gently to him, though he doubts her voice is even audible over its distress. She looks up at his approach, startled. “Oh!” she says, then hesitates. “Is the team planning to come in here for a visit? I’m sorry, but I think maybe that’s not the best idea right now.”

“They’re not coming. It’s just me,” Andrew says. He gestures to the baby. “Is he—”

The nurse smiles. “This is Jacob. He’s not feeling very well today, unfortunately. He’s in some pain, and I think he misses his mom too.” There’s something sad in the woman’s gaze, a tear he thinks he sees in her eye; Andrew knows, instinctively, that the baby’s mom didn’t make it, or maybe she isn’t coming back. He suspects from the lack of visitors that there might be no dad in the picture either.

She must see him staring at the baby, because the next smile is directed at Andrew. “Do you want to hold him?”

Andrew feels himself freeze up. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

“Oh honey, you won’t. He’s suffering from some muscle pain and discomfort, because he’s ill. But newborns are always most comfortable when they’re being held, even if they’re hurting in other ways. If you’re careful, it can only do him good.”

Hesitantly, Andrew nods. The baby doesn’t stop crying when the nurse picks him up, although he does briefly subside into a sort of confused fussing, and she rocks him gently for a few moments before easing him into Andrew’s arms. For the first few moments, he stands stock still—doesn’t shift or adjust the baby’s positioning, just feels the weight and warmth of him settling into his grip. Then he gathers the little body a fraction closer to his own, lays a palm against the delicate head. He’s unconsciously moving back and forth a little, seeking the gentle movement that soothes the baby’s plaintive cries. The nurse gestures to a rocking chair a few feet away, and he lowers himself into it—carefully, so carefully, trying not to jostle.

“Is he gonna make it?” he finally asks, softly. He’s trying for impassive evenness in his voice, and he almost gets there except for the tightness that works its way in.

He thinks at first that his question might have been drowned out by the crying, which is picking up in volume again, although it’s maybe a little less agitated than before. But the nurse hears him. “He’s going to have a rough few days,” she says. “But we think he just has to get through this tough spot. Once he grows a little, gets his weight up and gets this through his system, he should be just fine.”

She tends to the other babies while Andrew holds Jacob, and finally steps out, giving him a few minutes of alone time with the baby. Jacob doesn’t immediately quiet just because he’s being held; he cries relentlessly for about ten minutes, and they feel like some of the longest ten minutes of Andrew’s _life_ , because this tiny little thing is obviously in pain and there’s so little he can do. But eventually, Jacob exhausts himself, or maybe he was given medication a while back and it finally kicks in. His anguished tears trail off to hiccupped breaths and whimpers, and he stares up at Andrew with wide eyes. Andrew finds himself murmuring to him, soft words that mean nothing. One of his fingers gently traces the fragile skin on the back of the boy’s hand, and he feels the baby’s thin fingers latch weakly onto his own strong ones before letting go again.

He rocks the baby until it falls asleep, letting the rest of the world fade away.

~*~

Without his noticing, one of Andrew’s teammates, Samir, comes looking for him. He gets as far as the long observation windows before he sees Andrew, completely absorbed in the infant he’s holding. With a small smile, Samir takes out his phone, takes a picture. (If he’s lucky, Andrew will let him send it to Neil, when he shows it to him later.) Then he goes back into the playroom where the rest of the team is talking to the nurses and waiting.

“Where’s Minyard?” one of them asks. “Did you find him? Did he disappear again?”

Samir doesn’t really answer the question—just smiles and keeps Andrew’s secret for him. “He’s almost ready,” is all he says. “Just give him a minute.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr [here](http://imaginedmelody.tumblr.com). Please come and say hi anytime and tell me what you thought of the fic! Whatever you celebrate, and however you celebrate it, have a very happy holiday. <3


End file.
